


If You Teach An Aussie To Dance...

by Birdfluff



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Dancing Lessons, Fluff, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-04 20:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18820048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdfluff/pseuds/Birdfluff
Summary: Years after the war for Australium ended, the three mercenaries have been living happily since inside their shared apartment, because they were more than roommates.





	If You Teach An Aussie To Dance...

**Author's Note:**

> A TF2 fic in 2019?? Whaaaa--This is the first fanfic I have written for TF2 but left unposted because I thought it unfinished. I found it today and read through it and realized that it was finished, I just had a lot of pressure on myself to make it a bigger thing than it needed to be. I've corrected most of the grammar and I believe this is now ready to be seen. Enjoy :) I have truly missed writing these three.

Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words  
Killing me softly with his song  
Killing me softly with  
his song

Sniper was gently swaying to the song as he pressed the tip of his fork around the edges of the pie. A small smile glued to his face. Completing the circle he placed the fork down beside the tin, he then picked up a knife and trimmed the hanging edges. After he finished the trimming, he took the bowl beside him of a beaten egg and glazed it over the pie. As if on cue the oven beeped, claiming that it was done preheating. The Australian took the pie into one hand and sidestepped over to the oven. He opened the door with his free hand and gingerly pushed the pan in then closed the door.

I felt all flushed with fever  
Embarrassed by the crowd  
I felt he found my letters

By now, he hummed quietly to himself as he returned near the kitchen sink, taking in the fresh air from the small window in front of him. He gazed out at the tall buildings; their colors beginning to fade from the setting sun. So unfamiliar yet comforting. Definitely, he was still not used to living in an apartment in a city no less even though they had only been here for a month. 

Every now and then he'd miss the comfort of sleeping in his camper van. This was a good change though, so said Medic, a good experience. He let out a sigh and proceeded to do his chores to kill the next fifteen minutes set on the pie. The bushman took one dish out of the right side of the sink, turned the faucet on, took out the rag hanging from one of the drawers, and washed the gunk off under the running water.

He sang as if he knew me  
In all my dark despair  
And then he looked right through me  
As if I wasn't there

“And he just kept on singing. Singing clear and strong.” Sniper wasn't a talented singer. It was hard for him to hit any of the notes right. When he did find the urge to sing a verse, his voice grew soft and shallow. He would usually sing when he knew he was alone. He'd never admit to the other two that he was embarrassed by his frail cords. Speaking of them, apart from the song the radio was emitting, he heard footsteps he immediately recognized. He counted the steps in his head... 4, 3, 2, 1-- the door handle jiggled and briefly opened afterwards. He heard shuffling and sounds of shoes being tossed onto the floor.

“How was practice?” The bushman inquired without pause.

“You should have seen it, Snipes,” A voice with a heavy Boston accent responded, “I hit so many outta the park! It was awesome! What can I say, I'm not a champ for notin'.”

Sniper's smile broadened a bit at his reply. Scout was so full of himself, any sane person would find him incredibly annoying after a while. For Sniper? He found it adorably charming.

“Say what are you makin' this time? You didn't say before.” The batter was behind him now, no doubt looking at the oven. He heard a beep. He had turned the oven light on. “Is that a pie?”

“Mmhm, Australian meat pie.”

“... Ya know that meat pies are made... mostly everywhere right? What makes this one Australian?”

The bushman had been waiting since this morning for that question. He lifted his head up from his hands and glanced behind him at Scout. His smile had become huge now, “Because it was made by me.”

In an instant, Scout rolled his eyes yet couldn't help smile. He gave Sniper's shoulder a playful punch, “Alright, nice one, ya smartass.”

They laughed until Scout's attention was turned towards the music. The Australian took this opportunity to look him over at his attire. His 'lucky' red shirt and obviously one size too big pants always gave him such a boyish look.

Strumming my pain with his fingers  
Singing my life with his words

“This song is always on whenever it's your turn to make dinner. It's become your song to cook to huh?” The batter returned his gaze back onto him to notice his stare and warm smile. A tingling sensation greeted his chest as he instinctively scratched the back of his neck in a nonchalant manner.

“Radio stations have a knack for repeating songs.” He replied with a shrug. Sniper knew him for too long to know what that gesture meant but he let him go this time, his gaze falling back down to his hands.

“I think you always call in at this time to make a request to put that same song on each time.” Another step towards him. He felt their shoulders touch. The bushman didn't answer. He finished cleaning out one pan, set it on the towel beside the sink, and in a robotic manner picked the next plate up to wash.

Sniper felt him move, his arms wrapping around his waist, his head and chest pressing against his back, feeling his even breathes on his neck. He loved whenever he did this. They stood like this until the song finally ended.

“Are we killing you?” He softly asked.

“Everyday and I'm a masochist for loving it.” The Australian responded followed by a short chortle.

“Good... because I know I don't want to stop,” His arms around him gave a tiny squeeze, “and I'm sure he don’t want to either.”

“I'm glad.”

He felt a puff of breath on his maroon shirt. A content sigh. The voice on the radio then began babbling about some useless nonsense for at least three minutes, which Scout did not hesitate to mock bringing laughter up from Sniper's throat, until the next song started.

Welcome back, your dreams were your ticket out  
Welcome back, to that same old place that you laughed about

Distant footsteps were heard once more.

“Ah, speak of the devil, the doc's come back,” he wiped his hands dry by brushing them against his pants.

“I didn't know he wasn't here.”

“He left to get groceries for his turn tomorrow.”

“... I still call take out.”

“C'mon now, be a good sport. Wait, no, I'm sorry I forgot how hard that is for you to do.”

“Oi, I am in the position to strangle ya, you know!”

“And I know you don't have the guts to do that. Besides, I can easily take you down just like last time.”

He didn't have to look to see that his company's face was bright red, “Shut the fuck up.”

Finally he faced him and gave him a quick kiss on the head before ruffling his hair.

“Your hands are still wet--”

“Ja, wir necken ihn sehr. Denn wir haben ihn auf der Stelle,” the doctor's voice could be heard a yard or so away. Both of them recognized the tune since they both had just heard those lyrics but in English.

We always could spot a friend, welcome back  
And I smile when I think how you must have been

“Aww, he's off by a verse. Does he hear the radio?”

“Nah, it's too quiet to carry that far. It's humorous though that he's thinkin' of the same song.”

The door clicked and brushed against the carpet flooring.

“Willkommen zurück. Willkommen zurück. Willk--”

“Welcome back.” Scout remarked with a smirk, catching him off guard.

Medic peeked into the small kitchen, trying not to seem flabbergasted, “Oh, oh Scout, you're home early.”

“Yea, small treat for myself for hitting most of the balls outta the park.”

“Really now? Glad to know all that practice is paying off,” the German adjusted his grip on the bags as he stepped onto the old creaky tiles of the kitchen.

“'Ere, Doc, let me have a bag. Looks a bit heavy for you.” Sniper quickly grabbed two of the four bags from him before he could respond.

“You know very well I can--” his sentence broke off when the bushman pecked his cheek. He huffed and let him proceed to place the plastic bags on the counter across the fridge. Scout couldn't help but break into a tiny fit of giggles from his reaction. He slowly forced himself to stop when Medic placed his firm blue eyes on him.

“H-hey, lemme take on too,” the batter reached out but the recipient proceeded to move the bags away from his grasp.

“Doh, miene leibe, these are a bit too much for your strong arms.” It was obviously that his tone was filled with tease but Scout took that as a challenge.

“Oh yea? Give me one, I'll prove ya wrong!”

The doctor gave an exasperated sigh, “Fine, fine, heir.” He held out one of the remaining bags for him.

“Thank yo--” once he gripped the bag's handle and the other let go, the weight of the contents immediately came into effect and pulled his upper body down, “JESUS, Doc, did you buy bricks??”

“Nein, few pounds of meat, ja, but not bricks.”

“THIS is not a few pounds!” He glared up at the German, his lower lip poking out as he vainly trying to pick up the bag again by the straps.

The recipient did his best not to burst into giggles, “I-I did warn you.”

“Do you need some help there, mate?” Sniper inquired from behind watching all of this unfold with a big smile.

“I'VE GOT IT!” He gave up on the straps and decided to lift it up from the bottom. He squatted and gathered the meat bag in his arms, swiftly lifting himself back up with his legs, “SEE??”

He said this a little too soon, because of the amount of weight next to his torso he began to fall backwards. He tried to catch himself with scooting his right foot back, but before he could arms from behind caught him around his middle and a knee pressed onto his thigh.

“Gotcha,” his voice reverberated through his ears. Scout felt his heart skip a couple of beats from the moment he spoke just that one word. It was that same stupid word that made him fall... 

He did his best to cover up his skin shivering by leaving Sniper's embrace. “Yea, thanks. 'Preciate it,” placing the bag down on the counter beside him, “Ssee?”

As he spoke the other two gave each other short glances. The German made a brief gesture with his eyes towards the youngest and then back at the bushman. The Australian responded with the same gesture in agreement and together moved towards to unsuspecting batter.

“All's good, just lost my bal--”

With Sniper on his right and Medic on his left leaned down a bit to his face and kissed his cheeks.

“ANNnnccccee.” Everything in his being froze. His heart pulsed rapidly from the abrupt actions of affection from his partners.

The doctor was the first to cease and stroke his chin once with his index finger, “You did sehr gut.”

The bushman was next to remove his lips although he refused to speak he let out a deep throat snicker by looking at the batter's absolutely stunned countenance. These roared and repeated in the recipient's ears and mind.

Scout had always become easily overwhelmed when even shown the slightest touch of affection towards his person and always in vain tried to make up for it by pretending to toughen it out. His right hand muscles flexed and tensed as if he was holding a bat. Finally, he managed to relax his flushed face and instinctively out of sheer uncertainty he gently grazed his teeth over his bottom lip. Rolling his shoulders loose, he made a quick glance behind him, “Ah--..”

Words failed him. Vainly, he recovered by whirling around to face his partners, leaning his weight back on the counter. In a useless manner that tried to appear nonchalant although his red cheeks and distant eyes gave most of the fact away that he was still processing those two kisses. Thinking of nothing clever or macho to say, he let out a breath, “Lo-..love ya too.”

“Naaw, not putting up a fight this time? We must have gotten 'im good this time, Doc,” The Australian said impressed, eyeing his companion beside him from his peripheral.

Medic hummed, “Indeed, I believe it would make... possibly the third spot of the list.”

“Wha-wait what the fuck does that mean?” His question landed on deaf ears.

“Nah, mate, it's definitely the second, reme--”

“Oh that I do, I'm uncertain how to categorize those two. Which one do you think wins out?”

“Guys!” Scout managed to butt in, “You've been.. rating me..?!”

“More or less.” Medic replied collectively with a shrug.

“Your reactions are pretty priceless.”

“A-and how long has this been goin on?”

They responded in unison, “since we started dating.”

His jaw dropped, “WHAT BUtTtt... why?!”

“An experiment so to speak, studying how you react to what we do so we know how to do it in the future.”

“All Doc's idea too.”

“Oh ja, I will take full credit,” he admitted with his hands up in defeat.

This left him speechless once more, “You... you guys are disgustin' and unfair..!”

“Mm, you say that now,” Sniper remarked playfully.

“Yeah I do!! And then later I'll--!!” His sentence was cut off by an absurdly loud beep from the oven behind the two men.

“Nearly done, just need another twenty minutes.” the Australian bent down and changed the oven's heat to 180 and time. “By the by, Doc, where do you want all your stuff?”

“Ach, yes, I'd love your help.”

It was obvious that they were ignoring Scout's empty threat which heated up his being more. He began backing out of the kitchen, “S-screw you guys! And--” He withdrew his attention from then and onto the radio. “And how long is this radio fucker gonna keep yappin'?!! I'm switchin' stations. I'm sick of his dumbass nonsense.” He stomped over to the connecting den to the small table near two couches where the radio was sitting.

It took all of the two men's strength not to laugh at their poor lover's anger filled words at a radio as they unpacked the grocery bags.

Feverishly, he flipped through more than ten stations as his shoulders heaved up and down in sync with his breathing. He finally stopped at one channel that seemed to be playing the ending of a song he did not recognize... and the announcer for that station spoke up at once when the music had stopped. Sending him back into a fit, he released an anger brief groan and whirled the nob once again. Medic nearly lost it if not restrained himself by covering his mouth with both hands, taking in deep shaky breathes. Sniper, albeit was more composed at this point, couldn't help but snort and snicker as quietly as he could muster in order for the troubled batter to not hear him.

Scout being too concentrated on the radio couldn't hear them. Until he successfully landed on a station that had started a song, he exhaled, exhausted from his minimal rage. Letting his shoulders sag as he stood up right and glanced back at the other two who were now putting away the food one by one, his ears caught familiarity with the song it wasn't until the trumpets and vocals hit when he knew the song.

Do you remember the 21st night of September?  
Love was changing the minds of pretenders  
While chasing the clouds away

 

Oh, _hell_ , yeah!  
 _This_ was his song. This song alone flourished memories back at their old place, with all the other mercs. This was one of the songs that played in the aftermaths of their victories at their base. Demoman had the beer, flailing around with a bottle in each hand and an arm around Soldier's neck. They were both incredibly drunk. Spy and Medic were the only two who were not on the dance floor with the others. No doubt those two wanted to leave but knew they would be stopped if they tried. So they stood near the wall idly chatting to each other or watching everyone else. This was one of the times Scout had had the most kills out of any of the other classes and multiple kill-streaks. He felt absolutely ecstatic. So ecstatic he needed to work off most of the energy on the “dance” floor. Along with him was Pyro, Sniper, and Heavy.

He took a moment to stop dancing to jerk his head back to Sniper. Was he impressed too?

Sniper was out of breath from moving about, a hand at his side. Noticing the batter's gaze towards him and gave him a thumbs up and a brief smile before excusing himself from the floor. Scout's insides flared up as he watched him leave. He didn't want him to. He wasn't supposed to yet. The Australian gave him such mixed feelings about him; he hated it. He needed to do something about it.  
Everything happened at an alarming rate, every fiber in the batter's being took flight, even he wasn't sure what he was doing. He had caught the bushman by the arm which in turn withdrew the recipient's head over to him and... next thing that had happened was that Scout's lips had claimed the sniper's.

Scout’s eyes had been shut tight in the duration of the kiss. He was breathing his air. He, Scout, inhaling Sniper's scent. The smell of coffee and some fragrant of olive oil. The aroma of the grind-up beans had always disgusted him and yet-- forced himself to back up, did his eyelids flutter open. The skin on the bushman's face was similar to the hue of a tomato. For some reason the urge to glance around overtook Scout and he got the chance to mesmerized everyone's expressions. 

He remembered when his eyes landed on Medic's figure. His once collective stance was broken. His hand over his lips and his eyes wide. Guilt throbbed in the batter's chest. Even though he could never admit it to himself at the time, he was crushing terribly on both of them. Those feelings themselves were questioning his sexuality and making him feeling absolutely uneasy. This scene he just created right now did not help in the slightest. He felt his stomach churn at looking back and forth at Sniper and Medic until he bolted out of the room and locked himself in his own room.

He recalled all those aching thoughts that writhed and blurred and dashed throughout his mind. He felt so nauseated. Of course, this went against everything he had stood for. He had successfully convinced himself for so long about his love for girls until those morons came into view when he got this job that shattered his morals.

He could still hear the muffled music from his bed. Why was that still going on? How long had it been since that incident? He couldn't remember what time he left to figure that out. He found it incredibly difficult to distract himself so he sat on the edge of his bed, glaring outside his open window. Focusing on anything that moved, he saw some rats scurrying about the dusty ground. They scampered and hopped searching for scraps of food. At least, they didn't have anything to be embarrassed about. Breathing in the crisp air was nothing like the air in Boston. Boston's air, albeit less clean and fresh, had that familiar oily smell. Thinking back, he tried to place the smell he used to know so well.

This was good. This was a good distraction.

The oil fragrance, it wasn't that gasoline smell, although that was in the mix but this type stood out. It was that type of oil that girls would put in their hair.. what was it called again?

….

Olive oil.

A lump formed in his throat at the image of the Australian appearing again in his mind.

“GODDAMMIT!” he flung himself onto his back and emitted a loud frustrated moan, kicking his feet against the top of the mattress briefly before laying flat and stiff.

Cooo?

He blinked. Slowly sitting up, Scout saw a white pigeon standing on the window sill.

The batter's blood ran cold for this pigeon had blood stains on its pristine white feathers. And if Archimedes was here... the doctor wasn't far behind. He didn't want this thing in his sight now or later.

“S-shoo, shooo, go away Archimedes,” He said in a hushed tone, motioning him to fly off, “Doc is... not here.”

The pigeon refused to move and only stared at him with his beady black eyes.

“Leaaaave...!”

“Coo.”

“Don't make me slam this window on ya feet. Cause I will, if you don't move your tiny bird ass.”

“Cooocoo.”

Scout finally got up after his fruitless attempts at hoaxing the bird. He decided to do it manually. His hand moved towards the avian creature but before he could grab him the pigeon and throw him, Archimedes flew up and onto his head, which unfortunately did not have a hat to protect from the bird's ruthless talons.

“Friggin' GET OFF.” Mercilessly, he tried to smack Archimedes off of his noggin. The bird obeyed and proceeded to land on his shoulder. “Wha-- why are you-- why--?”

The creature nestled himself down leaving him stunned.

“You... never liked me Archimedes. What's wrong with you? Did the doc experiment on ya with some drugs. You ok? Wait, what am I doin'?! Talkin' to a fuckin' bird. Oh yea, it'll definitely know what I'm sayin...”

Giving up, he lifted a finger towards the pigeon; usually Archimedes would bite him when Medic allowed him to pet his pet. If he was being nice maybe a little pat would be ok?

The avian saw the finger but did not open his beak. Hesitating, Scout then eased his finger onto his breast feathers. The dirty feathers were soft and silky to the touch. He hummed and began to give the little creature a few gentle scratches on his head and chest like how Medic would pet him. Archimedes let out a muffled coo in satisfaction, puffing out his feathers.

“You know doc, I mean, of course, but, what I meant to... You both have spent a long time with each other... and I haven't so we haven't really... God what the fuck am I tryin' to say. It's weird enough talkin to a bird. Ok, look, I was, strangely, weirdly, very stupidly, was, was... jealous or envious I don't know which. Which is so fuckin' stupid, look at me, I'm jealous of a fackin bird,” Scout huffed as he leaned on the edge of his bed, continuing to grumble,   
“at least the doc actually likes having you around. Always at his side, even on the battlefield. I can't stand it. You always get to be beside him and I'm always getting pushed aside... by _everyone_. Now don't think that I'm going go all sappy now cause I'm not. I know that doesn't happen all the time but just... when it does, when I want their attention. It 'urt. Goddammit, does it 'urt. Especially when... you've got that dumbass feeling... that- that won't leave and it’s, like, eating you from the inside out. I feel like the doc is doin' surgery on me and I can feel it all, I mean I can, but like, a twenty times worse. And do you know what's worse?” 

Archimedes cooed. 

“What's worse it that I fucking love it. Every bit of it. Same goes with the fuckin Aussie. I cannot believe myself. I've really outdone it this time. Good job for fallin' for your teammates, ya moron, and they're MEN. What's Miss P gonna say now huh?” He exhaled shakily, “I don't know, I donno... I got no clue why I've been feelin like this for so long. Why I fucking just kissed him like that. In front of e'ery one. And Pauling's gonna hear about it.”

Scout paused, mulling over the past incident, “His lips felt nice though, and soft... I really would do that again if... if I could. Doesn't help that he smelled good too...and coffee.. It's weird cause, I hate that smell. Gross. Especially black which is what he drinks but some about that smell mixed with that oil just... it's intoxicatin'... I'm a fuckin' freak, ain't I? And you're not even listenin' are you?”

Archimedes stretched out his wings which brushed against his cheek and warbled.

“Aheh,” Unsure, he put two fingers out again but nearby the bird's feet. The pigeon complied and stepped off of his shoulder. He clasped himself onto his new perch, shaking out his body to force some loose feathers to fall out. “Just realized somethin', you don't smell like... intestines or... blood... or whatever you would call that. I thought you would smell revolting but... I think its some sort of medicine.. but, not. Like a weird cologne... Doc always... has... Dammit, you were supposed to distract me and now you got me ravin' about them like I'm some sort of creep. Talkin about how nice they smell-- And-and I'm younger than them--! Ow! Hey, watch it!”

The pigeon hummed back until he finally settled down on his perch.

“Uhm... thanks for... hearin' me out... I guess? I've given up at this point. That why I started venting to a fucking bird-- don't you dare shit on me. Do you know how hard that is to get it off wood?” He paused, “Anyway, at least... I got some things sorted out... mentally... I am just gonna die tomorrow, just out right die. No one is ever gonna let me live this down. But, uh, you helped me cool down I guess. So,” he scratched under the bird's chin with his free hand. “Thanks.”

Archimedes shivered again and released his grip on his human perch, taking off towards the window. Scout watched and once his eyes met the window he could have sworn his heart had stopped.

The pigeon had flown over and handed on the shoulder of Medic. Medic. Standing outside. Outside of his window. The batter stumbled back from astonishment at the sudden appearance of the doctor, “AHHH!!”

By the excelling speed of his fall his head met with his dresser behind him, creating a sharp cracking sound.

“Scout!” Immediately, the doctor climbed through the window to aid the young man. The batter tried to squirm away but everything was shapeless and abstract he couldn't tell where he was going or what anything was.

“--old sti--”

He felt himself being placed onto something soft, assuming his own bed. Cool hands were touching his scalp. Eventually, his vision and hearing came back, albeit still healing from the impact. The world around him spun as he fought for consciousness. He still could not make out the doctor's words if he was talking. In an instant he made a quick check of every single thing he could.

Was he in Medic's lab?

He squinted. No. Still in his own room.

No blood?

He checked his hands-- no red-- touched the back of his head, which burned like hell, and checked his hands again. Surprisingly, no blood. He had that nauseated sensation in his body again.

“--ate, Sco-- cout-- can--- hey--”

It was hard to make out the voice. He could see a blur of another person that wasn't Medic. Soon, he felt touching again around his back. Hot air breathed into his ear and he could finally concentrate enough on the words, “Just stay with us, mate you'll be ol'right.”

If Scout was fully conscious, he would've have pushed himself out of the bed and onto the floor again. Doing anything to get away. Sniper was talking to him. Sniper. The guy he kissed. THE Sniper.

Sniper!

He must have had said this out loud for there was a response...

“I'm here. Doc's here too. Please if you can, drink this.”

Something plastic poked his mouth. Sluggishly he obeyed and drank. It tasted like seaweed and citrus smoothie. His stomach almost gave it back if not for comforting touches against his arms, shoulders, and back that pulled him through to continue swallowing the thick liquid.

Scout recalled that when he came to colorfully after ingesting the doctor's medicine, they discussed the events beforehand. Sniper was absolutely fine with the kiss nonetheless forewarning would've been nice. Apparently, Medic and Sniper had been outside his window during his conversation with Archimedes, they had tried opening the locked door and calling out, but adjudged that he did not hear them. This concerned them and decided to check up on him in a different way. The window, being the only option there was, they had left the building and planned to knock until they found Scout trying to shoo Archimedes away. If not for Sniper, there their arrival would be a lot sooner if Scout were to hurt his precious bird. The two men had stayed put to eavesdrop, unsure when to make their presence known. The batter had stopped them before they could continue to ask why did both of them come for him? This.

This is when they admitted their secret relationship. It had been secret for half a year. They explained that when three months had passed, their crushes on Scout had bloomed into something more. His personality and actions grew onto them, becoming adorable and charming. Neither of them are sure of how to handle this, but they did not want to ignore him. It was difficult to figure and decide. Until they stumbled upon the answer just a week before this event.

“We wanted to take you aside and ask you ourselves. And...” the bushman gaze a nervous glance at his partner, who gave a single nod “I guess, now's good...”

You... could've pick any one of the others... you choose me?

Processing this information especially after a brief concussion even with the help of the doctor's medicine, it was astounding.

It was new. It was strange. He had never heard of three people in love with each other, but it formed more trust and respect between them, right?

All of these memories flashed at an alarming rate before him just by hearing this song. That was just a year and a half ago and now they were living together...

Ba de ya, say do you remember  
Ba de ya, dancing in September  
Ba de ya, never was a cloudy day

He could not help it now that he felt good. He shuffled backwards smoothly before stopping to spin in succession and then proceeded to thrust his hips out, mimicking that pop-star's signature move.

 

Upon gazing over at the two men watching him from the kitchen, as the song stopped and then proceeded by the short intermission of commercials, his chest and stomach began to burn and pinch but not from embarrassment. He wanted them to gape at him. Slowly, he breathed, relaxing his heart rate from the rapid succession of body movement from before. He lifted his arm up, arranging his fingers to resemble a gun. He swiftly flicked his wrist, mimicking the recoil, “bang.”

God, he's precious, they agreed internally.

Sniper and Medic snickered lovingly to themselves at his adorable antics until noticing that their lover was edging closer a hand out.

“C'mon, Snipes, our song is almost on,” he stated with a wink.

“Ah- n-no I can't. You both know I'm a cluts at that--” The bushman managed to cough out from fluster.

“Then it's time ya learn.” Before he could react the batter already had his hand and dragging him out into the den; the doctor's laugh repeating in his ears.

“S-Scout, I don't--”

“Shoosh, try to follow me, o'lright?” He gave a lopsided grin as he tried to copy his Aussie accent through his thick Boston twang, “It's just us. Here let's try somefin' like this for starters.”

It had his heart fluttering, when his partner took his hands. Even though they were only an arm's length apart Sniper felt claustrophobic. Tripping over his own feet, he tried to mirror Scout's footwork. It was almost too much to focus on so many different things: moving in time, getting his feet in the correct places, keeping the same distance. This was out of his comfort zone.

“I'm so sorry, this is so clunky and--” his sentence was interrupted by his partner.

“Snipes, relax, 'ey look at me.”

He obeyed and stopped moving.

“You're grittin' your teeth again,” Scout observed a pout on his lips. In response, he released his jaw which emanated a soft crack from the tensed up bones. “You know, this is super easier. You're making it harder.”

“Sor--”

“Ah-ah-ah, let loose. It's just as simple as like, drivin' a.. car or... shooting someone... I guess, what I'm saying is that you gotta not stress so much bout this. You've danced by yourself before and happy about it too. This isn't that different.”

The Aussie gave a curt huff in, which the Scout retaliated by squeezing his hands.

“We don't have to do anythin' with our hands this time, just follow my feet.”

“O'lright...” He returned the squeeze.

“But you have to keep lookin' at me.”

“Wot, no I'll--!”

“You won't step on my feet, I promise. Just do it.”

Before he was ready, Scout started moving again, stepping in time with the beat.

Then I get night fever, night fever  
We know how to do it  
Gimme that night fever, night fever  
We know how to show it

He kept his gaze and grip on his leader. He concentrated on his features as he awkwardly mimicked him, fighting the urge to stare at the ground. The world around him seemed to blur, circling and stepping in tune. Mixed emotions filled up his insides, gazing back at his lover's boyish face. He bit back the simple urge to pull him into an embrace, anything to stop this discomfort. Indeed, he was enjoying this moment but everything felt too clunky and unusual, as if he was contemplating jumping out of a plane to skydive. Checking that every little thing was in its rightful place.

No no, relax, don't stress too much.

“You're getting the hang of it, buddy.”

“Am I? I feel like I'm getting worse,” he opened his mouth to only stretch his jaw.

Sniper soon had a tap on his shoulder and they ceased dancing. The doctor stood behind him with a warm grin planted on his face, “Scout, I had a thought, why don't we demonstrate for him? Perhaps a visual would be better before jumping in, mm?”

“Oh, good idea, Doc!” He turned towards his partner, “Would that work for you?”

“Uh—sure, yea, I'll sit down.” He released his hands and took a seat at the couch across from the two, silently relieved.

“You ready?”

“Not quite,” Medic answered. They waited until the song ended and seamlessly played the next song without an intermission, “Ach, perfect. I think this suits us nicely, don't you?”

Slowly a smirk grew on the batter's lips. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without a second more of hesitation, Scout the role of the leader, stepping into his lover's personal space before the vocals entered. Running his hands from the other's chest onto the shoulders, the German complied with shifting his hands on his waist and down to his back, pulling him until there wasn't space left. They stared, waited, until the drums stopped, they moved in strides, briskly and evenly. The batter found himself taking deep breaths already. By being so close, he was inhaling his collaborator's addictive scent. If he could be anymore nearer to him, he would leap at the chance. His eyes lulled as he let Medic lead. The doctor giggled, slipping his leg in between his and shifting the positions of his hands to his upper back. Leaning back away from his person, Scout followed arching his back with his hands clasped onto Medic's shoulder's which revealed his neck more openly.

Baby, baby, I'll meet you  
Same place, same time  
Where we can get together  
And ease up our mind

The doctor bent forward at the waist and gingerly placed his lips on the side of his neck brief yet passionate. The batter withdrew a sharp inhale, before his partner eased him back up while he moved his hands back down to his chest. His eyes were glazed over. He blinked fast ro focus on the song once more and knock himself out of his trace. They strut backwards, their eyes refusing to break contact. With his hands still on his chest, he could feel his quick pulsing heart. Again, Scout slowly moved his hands down to his waist, causing his significant other to involuntarily shivered. Internally, he felt alive. So, so alive and eager. This obviously was definitely not part of the dance so intimate but this is what his mind encouraged him strongly to do. The one thing to catch his lover's attention.

He brushes his upper teeth against his bottom lip.

The doctor unintentionally flinched. His stare grew stern as if telepathically urging him to not start, especially during a demonstration. Naturally, Scout did not listen as he stepped into him, any chance at getting closer to his face, his lips. Their body's were not just brushing against each other anymore. Scout's body was firmly pressed upon his lover's. They paused only to let this moment sink in until... He bit his lip once more.

It was like a needle going through his heart. A drugged needle urging him, pressuring to just claim him right now. No, no, this was a lesson for their partner. He couldn't get distracted by the batter's intentions to encourage him to let his guard down. He needed to get back in control. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, exhaling deeply, he then proceeded to lead once more, keeping their bodies close as they shifted again to the rhythm of the music.

He didn't run his hand up nor down his body this time; he removed and placed his hands on his perfectly firm arms and then moved them to his back. Staring at him with those distant baby blue eyes, he had a small, perfectly sly smile. That smile. He didn't like that smile under these circumstances, any other time would be fine but this--

Scout edged his shoulders forward until he was embracing him, his chin resting on the other's chest. At a leisurely pace he brushed his tongue over his lips.

No

He blinked slow and partly opened his mouth again.

Don't

The batter bit his lip.

That needle pierced his heart again. His hands that were holding him tensed and grabbed at his crimson shirt. He was losing it. This stupid scout was urging him to beg. Letting himself fall for him during what was supposed to be a showcase of how to move smoothly, not a make out session. And yet he couldn't move even though the song still continued on. All of these motions and inner talk happened too fast.

It was until felt something wet against his mouth. Medic opened his eyes that he had unconscious had shut tight.

His tongue... his tongue was painting the outline of his lip.

Ok, this one's new... and it was working.

Medic finally let go and met his lips passionately, moving his partner's head back in the process. It was meant to be brief, although satisfying kiss but Scout kept him interested. Using his tongue to maneuver on his lips once more, this time the recipient opened his mouth to let him enter. Scout found a way to make him melt and moan. Every fiber in his body relaxed and drooped into him, letting him explore and deepen the emotional kiss.

It was difficult for either of them to snap out of it or gain enough strength to pull away. After another minute, the youngest pushed himself away, catching his breath.

Medic blinked several times, processing what had just consumed him. He glowered at the other, his cheeks a pinkish red, “Dummkoph...”

“That was so fuckin' worth it,” he panted, grinning from ear to ear unable to suppress his giggling, “and you f-uh-ckin' loved it.” He pressed his index finger onto his nose. He only huffed in response and removed himself from the embrace.

He tore his eyes away from his partner and found Sniper on the couch where they had left him. His eyes were huge and in awe. His jaw hung open and the corners of his mouth were slightly pointed up. His reaction was not the one he was expecting, in fact he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

“Oh.. oh shit, oOH,” Scout exclaimed in realization, “Shiiit, Sniper, that, I, I really got carried away..”

“What are you saying, that was fantastic.”

Medic cleared his throat,“W-well. Well, ah, do you have any... questions or.. concerns?”

“Yea...” he paused, standing up, “Please could you repeat all of that?”

“Nein.. What we were _supposed_ to get out of this.” He said as he gently shoved Scout by the shoulder, pointing the blame onto him, “You listen to the music and let it flow through you... Some more than others... and as you saw we took turns leading. We did what came naturally--”

“You ready??” Scout seemed overzealous to have another go with the Aussie.

He couldn't turn down that adorable face. He sighed, standing back up, “Sure.”

Medic patted his shoulder in an attempt to ease his mind and took a seat while Sniper walked back over to Scout. He wasn't going to directly copy what they had done in the beginning; he couldn't be bold in these circumstances. So to compensate, recalling Medic's words, he pulled his partner closer by his waist. Smiling the batter put his arms around his middle, “Want me to lead first?”

Not giving it a second thought he nodded.

I'm like a blind man who lost his way  
I can't see nothin'  
I'm like a deaf man who can't relay  
Yeah, I can't hear nothin'

The bushman did his best not to overwhelm himself with worry about multiple things that could go wrong. He had never had such numerous of anxiety about something that everyone can clearly state as simple. Sure, Scout and Medic had a few stumbles but made it work for them, why can't he? He felt so tall stepping around broadly in this small den. He was sure he would trip and crush his partner in the process or knock him into one of the lamp tables. Surely these were only intrusive thoughts, maybe he was just worrying too much over the safety of his lovers. Feeling so uncomfortable in a new situation along with fear of harming the other in the lack of space was a bit too much for him it was hard to relax.

“You're tensing up,” a German accented voice sprang into his mind, interrupting his thoughts, “Focus on the music.”

“You ok, Snipes?” The batter stared up at him in concern over his stress lines.

You're overthinking this. Breathe.  
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, unable to provide Scout with an answer. He kept them closed until he was sure that they had stopped moving around. He waited longer before he felt the batter touch his hand and squeezed it gently. He swallowed hard.

See the trouble with me  
I can't do nothin' without my baby  
And as plain as can be, what do I do?  
It's gonna drive me crazy

Listening to this song closer now gave him a sense of inspiration. Finally opening his eyes to his lover's worried countenance, he squeezed back and gained control over the lead now. He smiled through the discomfort, teeth beaming, surprising his unexpected partner as he twirled him shortly. He ceased and pulled him back in, back to chest, beginning to strut. Scout managed to lock eyes with the doc who was just as surprised and quickly gestured with his head to his leading partner. Medic's only response was a curt shake of the head and shrug, watching with intrigue. He returned his attention back on Sniper, recalling that he had his back against him, their hands clasped, and his free hand on his waist. This was nice; this eased him and he rested his head on the other's chest.

Even though he was writhing inside, he kept the smile planted on his face and his eyes directly on his lover. Following the doctor's advice, he focused solely on the music and the steps he wanted to take in his head to follow the rhythm. Desperately, he wanted to get lost in it with his significant other to enjoy it but everything else told him not to. Another step back urged a shout from his left side, “Sniper--!!”

Medic's warning came too late. The back of his leg hit something solid and couldn't pull his weight back up in time, “shhhhHIT!”

Hurriedly he braced Scout to hope that his body would break his fall once they collided with the floor. In actuality he and Scout landed onto the second couch. The soft yet abrupt landing astonished the two. Blink. Blink.

They looked at one another, pale faced.

“You ok?” Scout croaked.

“Sort of... you're crushin' my penis.”

“Aw jeez! Sorry, sorry!” He squeaked rapidly getting up from his lap, Sniper grunting as he did so.

Slowly, he got up to be met with an embrace from the youngest. He smiled sheepishly, patting his back, “Not your fault mate, that was completely on me. We just won't have kids of my genetics is all.”

He felt a bit better at the response of laughter from his lovers. Scout removed his body from him and flicked his head, “You fuckin' weirdo.”

“Well, we'll see.” They heard Medic say to himself.

They looked over at him with expressions mixed with curiosity and fear, “What does that mean, doc?”

“Oh, it's nothing to worry about! Honestly!”

“Doc, I swear if you put one of those baboon uterus in me--” Scout began before the doctor hushed him.

“Nonono, I gave most of those to Soldier, you're perfectly fine meine liebe, you know, until it kicks in,” the buzzer from the oven shouted loudly that the pie was finished.

“DOC!!” he grabbed him by the collar, “Until what kicks in?!!”

“Scout, I wouldn't worry about it, he put bird blood in me last time. Yours is probably nothing worse,” the Aussie reassured, relieved that their dance session was done with as he walked to the connecting kitchen.

“Yes, don't be such a baby! It's definitely nothing bad, believe me. Now if you could let go you're wrinkling my sweater.”

The batter scowled at him a while long before letting go. “Fine, and don't call me a baby.”

“Danke,” he stated flattening out his collar, “Sniper, I'm proud. You danced like a pro.”

“I think you're overstating that by a lot,” Sniper replied bluntly, cutting the meat pie into equal pieces.

“But you improved! You did great,” Scout added, prodding his back.

“I 'preciate your honesty, but.. can we please _not_ do that again.”

The two glanced over at each other and nodded, gazing back at their lover, “... Sure, pally, whatever'll make you comfortable.”

His shoulders finally relaxed. “Thanks..”

“Kein problem,” He felt his lover's hands on him, giving him ease at their acceptance, “and since we're so proud, we'll give you something special to look forward to tonight.”

His happy nonchalant expression dropped as well as his jaw and his knife. The clanging of the metal immediately brought him back into reality to catch the rubber end before it had jumped off the counter top.

“Bloody hell! Don't say things like that while I'm holdin' a knife! I nearly cut my bloody toes off.”

“They would be bloody if you did let it drop,” the batter commented, smiling at his own pun.

Slowly, Sniper glared over at Scout, his expression was made more intimidating with a knife in his hand. His smile in an instant vanished, “... Please don't kill me ‘ere, there isn't a respawn.”

“Just go set up the table.”

“Ok, ok!”


End file.
